The Hundreth Tally
by nicolft
Summary: Belarus has decided to start keeping track of every rejection from Russia with a tally mark on her right arm, and after each rejection, a quick game of Russian Roulette, and a tally on her left arm. At the hundreth tally, she just gives up on chance and finally ensures success... Rated T for suicidalness


**_Note:_**** They're speaking in Russian as the default, and Engrish shall be italicized.**

**I don't own Hetalia or anything, so, yeah.**

* * *

Belarus watched Russia scramble away from her in the most ungraceful way, tripping over his feet in a rush to escape from her. And for once, Belarus doesn't bother with tailing him.

"Big brother~" Her sweet voice is fueled with false emotion, and she notes that her infatuation seems to be dwindling with discouragement, "Let us get married already!"

If his frightful expression failed to hint at his thoughts, then his seemingly mandatory response, "No!" should have.

As his figure turned the corner, Belarus allowed her smiling façade to fall and rolled up her right sleeve to scarring marks neatly criss-crossing over her arm, some still so fresh that they had just barely clotted up. Belarus did nothing but add another slit. "One hundred rejections." Belarus' eyes darted to the corner which her brother had disappeared, "Why can't you love me..." A singular tear slipped out the corner of her eye, and Belarus pulled out a simple revolver, spinning the barrel and clicking it in place. As she held it up to her head, she pondered when she had finally gotten used to the feeling of cold metal pressing against her temple.

_Click._

The gun slipped back into her pocket, and more tears threatened to spill over.

Somewhat angrily, Belarus shoved the sleeve of her left hand up, running the blade right across her wrist and four other vertical cuts somewhat desperately, tears ebbing from her eyes. "One hundred failures." Her voice cracked on the word "failures" and when Belarus looked around, she finally realized; she was alone. Straightening up her attire and dabbing her tears away, Belarus took an unsteady step. "I may as well say goodbye..."

She ignored the searing pain on her arms, walking the path her brother had taken; to the World Conference. And so what if her arms were bleeding? So _what_? It's not as if Belarus would've minded if she had cut deep. Why should she?

Sighing, Belarus wiped her eyes again and swung the door open, taking in the meeting room. Canada was sitting in Russia's lap, Russia watching her warily. America also had his eyes fixed on her, concerned for the safety of Canada. It was the same damn routine, over and over, and Belarus didn't care to choose a spot near Russia as she scanned for empty seats.

After sitting herself down, she took out a paper and pencil and started drawing a flower. Flax. Draw the drooping stem, draw the dried leaves, draw the wilting petals, draw it crumbling into dust. And mentally, label it as yourself.

Roughly twenty minutes passed before Belarus looked up to see everyone staring at her.

Germany cleared his throat, awkwardly; she had been acting quite odd today. "_Belarus, it is your turn to give a speech_."

Instead of answering, Belarus slowly stood up, walking towards Russia with deliberately small steps. "I have a portrait you may remember me by." She announced indifferently, and set the folded drawing in front of the trembling Russian.

Trembling. The great Russia was trembling. Did she really strike fear into her own brother? It must be. Perhaps if she left, everyone would be able to become happier, not having to worry about her.

And so she did.

After pivoting on her heel, the Belarusian headed towards the door, her gait much faster than before. Once she slammed the door open and stepped into the hallway, Belarus turned back and looked Russia in the eye, her voice unwavering as she spoke, "_Ya tibya lyublyu, Vanya._" She turned her head away almost painfully and closed the door with a whisper.

"I always will."

* * *

_'No one loves you, Belarus...' _The pessimistic voice in her head reminded as she walked through the halls. _'You have reached a hundred days. A hundred days of rejection. No one ever _has_ loved you, and no one ever will.'_

Tears streamed freely down her pale cheeks and she quickened her steps, before bursting into a sprint, and then what could only be described as full out and desperate charge. She had lost everything but what seemed like her life, which she now wanted gone. Slipping away too quickly for her frantic grasping to reach, but it didn't take long for her to realize that you couldn't lose something that you never had.

The doors burst open, creaking on their hinges, allowing the icy wind to welcome Belarus, along with the sound of snow crunching under her Mary Jane shoes.

"Do you remember, Vanya?" Belarus took out a knife and started playing with it, "When we were younger?" She looked up, staring at the vast amounts of blank white snow. "Treasure hunts that Ukraine set up..." A familiar knife was pulled out, "When we were actually happy together..." She recalled, cutting clean through her clothes and into her chest, happily embracing the stinging pain. "X marks the spot," She whispered, examining the gleaming knife, "It's time to dig our treasure out..."

Cold metal was plunged into her chest, blood dribbling down on the snow as she collapsed onto the snow-blanketed ground,

"Too bad...this treasure...has no value..."

"Natalya!" Russia burst out of the doors, running up to her, having witnessed the whole thing with wide eyes.

"Ah...big brother...you actually care..." Belarus gazed up as him with her soft, violet eyes as her brother gently picked her up. "It's okay...you don't have to...worry...anymore..."

A faint smile graced her lips and she felt true happiness before she shut her eyes and her consciousness ebbed away, inviting her into the welcoming darkness.

"I've always cared, Natalya..." Russia sobbed, caressing his sister's dead body, "I always have..." He wiped away a tear, and brushed Belarus' pale cheek, "I love you..." He smiled bitterly, tears streaking down his cheek, "but that confession's long overdue, isn't it?"

* * *

**Yay4angst, right? XD But really, Belarus needs a bigger fanbase :3**


End file.
